30 Kisses: The Rose Bride and the Leopard
by KyaniteD
Summary: JuriXAnthy oneshots inspired by the 30 Kisses themes. No chapter fic. All entries are COMPLETED. May be loosely connected, though.
1. 11 Gardenia

Title: Gardenia  
Author/Artist: KyaniteD  
Pairing: Juri/Anthy  
Fandom: Shoujo Kakumei Utena  
Theme: # 11: Gardenia  
Disclaimer: The basic set up, surroundings and characters are not mine. The story, however, is.  
Rating: If a rating should be applied, it'd be PG-13 to be safe, but maybe that would raise too many hopes and PG would probably be more realistic.

A/N: Thanks to Lilian - your work as beta is much appreciated, I always enjoy working with you ;)

* * *

GARDENIA 

_Tending the roses_

_- A._

_PS: Don't wait for me._

_Don't wait._ For almost a year she had been the rose bride's master. She had fought off every challenger, had defeated each duelist several times, putting their efforts to shame each time, and the halo of the victor shone even more brightly over her head with each time that the bells tolled.

Yet, here she was victor and master, but never champion.

_Don't wait_ read the piece of paper she had found on the pillow when she had returned from the bathroom. _Don't wait_

And tonight, like every night, she would not heed her bride's advice and left the room, the house, dressed only in her nightgown, to sit by the fountain and wait.

From the west the wind carried the sound of waves crashing against the cliffs and the roar of surf caught between the rocks. Her gaze wandered across the clear night sky, her eyes swiftly crossing the distance between the stars, following them to the horizon, and returning on a lower path to a softly illuminated greenhouse that happened to look like a birdcage.

She remembered how the president had referred to the rose bride as a bird in a golden cage. He did not understand anything. Or maybe things had just been different back then.

She knew that, now,Anthy fled to the rose garden, fled from the confinements of the school, the student council, the duels, the duty… Somehow, there, she seemed to feel free, and, sometimes, even lighthearted enough to hum a soft tune while watering the rose bushes.

But she knew, at this hour, it was not the rose bushes that were on her mind, nor was it the watering can that was kept in her hand and held on to.

Juri knew what Anthy was holding. She had known for a while now. Since her curiosity had made her follow her bride into the night for the first time, she had made sure she would wait, here, by the fountain, every night, to gather her in her arms, offer her a handkerchief to dry off the tears and accompany her to what she had started to refer to as home.

If she had been honest, she would have admitted that she could not sleep alone, without her precious bride by her side, who silently and somewhat willingly humored her need to hold on to a warm body. But while being blatantly and at times brutally honest with the people around her, facing truth about herself was not Arisugawa Juri's strongest suit. And so she told herself that she was merely concerned for the bride's well-being; Himemiya was the responsibility of the victor in every regard, after all.

_Don't wait_ said the piece of paper each night. And every night she would wait.

She would sit and watch the shadow in the glasshouse, hovering in one place, unmoving, for over an hour or more.

But she was tired, tired of waiting, and she got up to walk in the direction of the mockingly birdcage-like greenhouse.

The door opened with a creaking sound and what she found made her chest ache in several places, one of them most certainly was the empty spot right above her breasts, where a locket used to rest against the bare skin, held by a heavy golden chain.

Anthy was kneeling in front of a single rose bush, one with pristine white, perfectly shaped blossoms. There was no wilted petal, no dry leaf on the bush. And Anthy was sitting there, caressing the blossoms, softly talking, and although her back was turned to the fencer, Arisugawa Juri knew that the girl was crying.

She tugged her gown tighter and slowly walked over to the girl.

Holding her gown closed with one hand, she buried the fingers of the other in the rose bride's loose hair. The caressing touch quickly turned into a harsh gesture when she curled her fingers and pulled the head back so that Anthy would have to face her.

"She is dead, Anthy. When will you understand that she died. She fought for you, and she lost. She is gone Anthy. I am your master now. I have been the victor in all the duels you and your brother have sent me to. I **will** be your champion."

She let go of the girl and turned to the door, and while she slowly walked away, not waiting for the bride to follow, she said,

"I have waited for so long. Tomorrow I want the white blossom."

Arisugawa Juri did not see the smile that crept over the face of an ancient, at best to be described as shady, creature of a long and lonesome past.

In the afternoon of the next day, the duelists faced each other, waiting for the rose bride to attach the blossoms to their chest. Stony faced she watched a lilac rose being pinned to her challenger's jacket, and her face lit up when she saw the rose bride approaching her with a white flower. She closed her eyes and smiled when she felt her cheek being kissed softly.

Her eyes shot open when she heard the soft whisper from the retreating figure.

"Gomen, Juri-sama."

A heady, sweet scent suddenly clouded her mind. Looking down her eyes found a perfect, pristine white blossom, which was not a rose, protruding from her uniform jacket. Pain invaded her head and breathing became harder with each heave of her chest.

_Why._

_Greed, Juri-sama. Greed._


	2. 2 News, Letter

Title:_ none yet_  
Author/Artist: KyaniteD  
Pairing: Juri/Anthy  
Fandom: Shoujo Kakumei Utena  
Theme: # 2: news, letter  
Disclaimer: The basic set up, surroundings and characters are not mine. The story, however, is.  
Rating: If a rating should be applied, it'd be PG-13 to be safe, but maybe that would raise too many hopes and PG would probably be more realistic.

* * *

She feels the grip tighten around her neck. She feels the fingers curling around her windpipe.  
She knows this hand, its strength, its softness; her body knows the digits, their moves, their trails.  
Lips are touching hers, lightly, for a moment, and then she feels her breath and hears a shaky whisper.

"Why?"

And she has no answer.

"Anthy! Why?"

And she hears paper being crumpled, in a death grip; she imagines, with knuckles standing out in white;  
and tentatively, she swallows, and breathes, slowly, into the hand that would hold her breath.

"Why, Anthy, is he still writing these letters?"

Another touch of lips, and a rush of air.

"Does he still call for you?"

And as she looks up she sees the pitiful eyes of a starving feline.

"Are you- are you still _seeing_ him?"

The hand around her throat is shaking, and so is she.

"Why can't he stop. Has there not been enough death."

And she thinks of her prince.

And she wonders if death could ever be enough.

* * *

Punishment. 

Release.


	3. 19 Red

Title: Red Kiss  
Author/Artist: KyaniteD  
Pairing: Juri/Anthy  
Fandom: Shoujo Kakumei Utena  
Theme: # 19: Red  
Disclaimer: The basic set up, surroundings and characters are not mine. The story, however, is.  
Rating: If a rating should be applied, it'd be PG-13, just like the series itself.

Not beta'd.

* * *

Red Kiss

Several shivers ran through her body.

It was winter. For the first time, it was winter at Ohtori Academy, and she wondered, if that had anything to do with the child of the sun, and its mysterious disappearance. Mysterious to everyone but her. She winced at the memory and buried her face deeper into the thick furry collar of her coat. A matching, just as thick and furry muff kept her hands warm, and a pair of boots completed the ensemble and ensured that she wouldn't get any frostbites on her feet while standing in the snow, watching the duel.

Snow. The whole arena was covered with several inches of snow. And it was still snowing. It reminded her of Juri's last duel with Utena, when rain had set in after the pendant had been cut from Juri's neck.

Juri wasn't wearing the locket anymore. She had given it to her, along with a picture of them, Utena and Anthy, taken on one of their happier days. She had wondered about the meaning of such a gift. She had been afraid that it meant Juri had given up on her. After rejecting her so many times, in so many different ways, she had been afraid that the Beautiful Leopard had eventually resigned.

But here she was, still fighting. Still fighting for her, fighting to keep her, fighting to stay by her side. She was not allowed to be the champion, she was denied the chance at being the prince. But she stayed, and she fought, like a knight, with devotion to the unattainable lady.

Juri had won every duel, not once had she lost, not one day had she left Anthy's side, always watching her, protecting her from unwelcome advances and bullying classmates.

Juri always won. Juri never used the Sword of Dios. Juri fought on her own, without Dios, without his sword, she would never be the prince, anyway. She would not risk all her hard work, she rather relied on her own abilities than making herself a pawn at the mercy of whoever was behind this cruel game.

The snowflakes had become bigger and it was hard to see anything at all. The challengers had become tougher lately, stronger, and colder, adhering to the rules, but increasingly ignoring the traditional code of the duelists.

Sometimes she found herself worrying about Juri...

A cry of pain echoed through the thick wall of snowflakes. She noticed a flash of red and then watched her knight falling to her knees, bending over in obvious pain. For the fraction of a second she was frozen to the spot, literally, as a flood of dreadful visions sent cold shivers over her skin. Without any coherent thought she ran to the fallen duelist, deeply concerned and not paying any attention to the other uniformed figure, who was holding up the bloodstained blade in a pose of victory.

With horror she saw the blood slowly coloring the snow under the slumped duelist, while snowflakes started to cover the orange curls, fading out the vibrant color and turning it into white - almost imitating a fast aging.

And suddenly she realized that she could lose Juri, not through her rejections, not through Juri's resignation, but through the cruel reality of the duels. Juri did not rely on the Powers of Dios in any way. She realized that Juri had no reason to be here. The only remaining female duelist had freed herself from her imprisonment; she was no longer bound to this world.

Juri had never been fighting for the Power of Revolution, and now she wasn't even fighting to disprove its existence anymore. Anthy realized that she was fighting for her; and she wasn't risking some foolish dream or some false and warped image of a relationship that never existed, she was fighting on her own, it was her free will, and she risked her very self. For her, for Anthy, for the Rose Bride, who denied herself a free will, who imprisoned herself in the memories of past loves.

Slowly her mind rose from her musings and she wondered, why the bells hadn't tolled to announce the end of the duel. She looked around but couldn't see any petals of the salmon colored rose she had pinned to Juri's jacket before the duel began. This could only mean that the duel wasn't over yet, and a warm feeling of joy spread through her body: Juri would fight. She knew she would fight for her; she was the only reason why the enigmatic fencer was still here, in her reality.

And once again she winced at the surfacing memory of her beloved prince, stabbed by her, the princess she had sworn to free and protect. She had stabbed the one she cherished most, who was fighting for her even after being fatally wounded by her protégée.

It felt like events were repeating. She had denied Juri the chance at the fateful and dangerous duel called Revolution. And here she may be dying anyway, for no other cause or goal than...

"Move it. Let me finish her."

While her thoughts were running wild, Juri's opponent had also noticed that he had missed Juri's rose, and now he was closing in on them, his sword en attaque.

She grabbed Juri by her shoulders, urging her to get up, but upon her touch the fencer started to vibrate, emanating a low, feral growl. Then she rose slowly to stand in front of Anthy, facing her and the duelist behind her. Anthy noticed the blood on the fencer's left hand, and concluded that she must have protected the rose with that hand, so that her opponent's blade cut through her hand instead of the rose.

Juri followed her gaze to her hand, and a cold smile crossed her beautiful features, a smile that never reached her eyes. She stuck out her tongue to lick some of the blood from the cut on her hand and fed it with a hard kiss to Anthy. It was a disgusting, numbing kiss, but so Juri in its fierceness and so sensual in its intimacy, so red with blood and - what she realized in just that moment - love.

"She is mine, and mine alone. None of you will ever touch her."

Juri had never touched her, either. Not after...

She had begged and pleaded and wooed and reasoned, she had been fighting for her, and while victorious in the arena, she had never been granted the fulfillment of her one wish.

And still she was fighting, to the blood, Anthy had seen that now, but she knew, Juri would not die, for if she was dead she could not protect her anymore.

She was pushed aside, and as she was stumbling out of the way, the Beautiful Leopard held up her deadly blade and leapt at the challenger, who was still visibly shaken by the blatant display of a perverted attraction between his adversary and what by right and nature should have been his bride.

And while he remained immobile, the angrily yellow rose was cut from his uniform jacket. Finally, the sound of the bells rang from the nowhere of a grey, cloudy sky.

She noticed that even the castle could not be seen anymore.

She turned to her victor, who had dropped her foil and was now trying to get a look at her injury, obviously fighting the urge to use her white uniform to wipe off the annoying sticky liquid that was still seeping from the cut.

Anthy pulled a neatly folded handkerchief from one of the pockets of her coat. She always carried one with her; she always carried **this** one with her.

Carefully, she took the injured hand and bandaged it with the cloth. She tied it with a knot, smothing out the corners, one of which was embroidered with two Latin letters:

**_T.U._**


End file.
